Little Woman, Big Heart
by Owlix
Summary: Carrie's mom told her on Prom Night that they could move away, but where was she thinking of moving to? And where did Carrie's abilities come from? Follow Carrie as she is forcibly moved to Surrey and follows her cousin, Harry Potter, on his adventures through Hogwarts. Major AU - 2013 Carrie, Black Prom never happened, OOC Petunia, religion featured in story - ON HIATUS! SORRY!
1. Small Kindnesses

**Hello, darling readers! This plot bunny grabbed a hold of me a while ago and hasn't let me go since, so I wanted to see what you guys thought. Please leave CONSTRUCTIVE criticisms/reviews/comments in the review section after reading this! AU Warning: Aunt Petunia will be nicer in this story and more willing to bond with Harry, while Harry will be more willing to forgive the Dursleys! If you don't like, DON'T READ! Also, religion will be discussed thoroughly in this story - again, don't like, DON'T READ!**

 **As always, read, enjoy, and review! Thanks!**

 **-Owlix**

 **Chapter One:** **Small Kindnesses**

The hottest day of the summer, August 2nd, dawned too-bright and muggy. A skinny but wiry boy opened his emerald-green eyes abruptly to find himself not in a cold and misty graveyard but in his too-hot bedroom, drenched with sweat for yet another time. Forcing himself to sit up, he ran a shaking hand through his recently shorn black hair. His aunt liked to do that every summer after he came back from school, even though she would only end up scowling at the untameable mop of black about a month later as she cut it back yet again. Thankfully, she cut it the same length all over instead of leaving his bangs to cover his scarred forehead, like she had when he was a child.

He looked up at the window and scowled heavily at what was no doubt another awful day with the most awful people at the most awful place in the world. What he wouldn't give to just fall back into bed and hide from it all, but he knew what waited for him when he slept: a graveyard, a murder, and a resurrection from the point of view of a prisoner and unwilling sacrifice. He looked down and managed to stop himself as his fingers gingerly traced the faint scar on his forearm, just below his elbow, where he'd been bled like a sacrificial lamb for the purpose of bringing one of his worst nightmares back to life.

"BOY!"

He was pulled out of his dark thoughts by the sound of his uncle bellowing like a grouchy old bull at him. The boy sighed, knowing that his uncle wanted his breakfast and that it meant he'd slept late again. Knowing there was nothing for it, he quickly changed into a more-or-less clean set of clothes and quietly went downstairs to help his aunt with breakfast.

His aunt did the majority of the cooking, since she and her husband believed that cooking was mainly a woman's job, but whenever his aunt needed something extra or particularly nasty to be done, he was supposed to do it. His jobs mainly consisted of minding the food as his aunt took care of other things, retrieving pots and pans and other items out of the cupboards, getting the food from the kitchen to the table, cleaning up any messes left behind at the table, and washing the mountain of dishes that always resulted from every meal. It was rare that he got to eat at the table with the rest of the family, but then again, he had never really felt like part of the family.

You see, the boy's parents were murdered when he was about a year old, leaving his aunt and uncle as the only members of his blood-related family still alive to raise him. They took him in reluctantly, no doubt pacified into tolerating him by some form of monetary compensation that was supposed to be spent on him instead of their own doltish son, and raised him as a burden that was meant to earn his keep. He "earned his keep" by doing all the chores his uncle and cousin wouldn't or couldn't do. When he was young, that would mean helping his aunt clean the house, mainly scrubbing the tiles and wooden floors as well as beating the various rugs, polishing the wooden banisters, and scrubbing each bathroom until they sparkled. As he grew older, his list of chores grew to include various outdoor chores like mowing the lawn, weeding the flowerbeds, and washing his uncle's car.

As you could probably imagine, the boy wasn't very happy with his aunt and uncle at all. He likely wouldn't have known what true happiness was if the letters hadn't started coming. Despite the fact that the boy's uncle would always burn or rip the letters to pieces whenever they came through the door, the letters kept coming until one was finally hand-delivered directly to the boy and catapulted him into the greatest adventure of his life.

One where he found out that he was special, that his parents hadn't died in a car crash, that people actually wanted to be friends with him ...

And that magic was real.

The boy's name was Harry Potter.

Harry Potter was a wizard.

And, as his friend Hagrid had warned him long ago, not all wizards were good.

Harry fully realized that when he came face-to-face with the wizard who murdered his parents during his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The wizard's name was Lord Voldemort, and he soon became obsessed with killing Harry. The only year Harry hadn't met Voldemort face-to-face so far was his third year, but that was a mad enough year already.

A little more than a month before, Voldemort managed to find a way to regain the strength he'd mysteriously lost when he'd tried to kill baby Harry after killing Harry's parents. Voldemort had done so by using the bones of his murdered father, the flesh of the one servant he'd latched on to over the past year, and blood forcibly taken from Harry's arm. On top of that, Voldemort had made his servant murder one of Harry's classmates right in front of him and then had forced Harry to duel him in hopes of killing him before the followers he'd called to his side. Harry had barely escaped with his life and had thankfully managed to bring the body of his dead classmate back to Hogwarts, but the damage had been done.

And now, here he was, stuck back with his "family", doing chores and being forced to listen to under-handed and blatant insults toward his magic, his parents, and his mysterious behaviour at night, among other things.

"Get the mail, boy," his Uncle Vernon grunted through his eggs.

Harry looked up from the dishes for a moment before realizing what his uncle had said and deciding it wasn't worth arguing about. He knew better than to look for his name in the mail, knowing no one outside the Magical world would actually write to him. Out here, he was a scruffy-looking nobody who went to this school for criminal boys. He trudged back to the kitchen sink and began scrubbing the remains of a meal that he wouldn't get to taste today.

A few minutes went by rather peacefully before Aunt Petunia let out the strangest noise. It sounded like she was being choked by the gasp of air she suddenly pulled into her lungs. All of the other eyes in the room looked straight at her and knew something was very wrong. Aunt Petunia's already-large eyes were almost bugging out of her now-porridge-coloured face as she stared in abject horror at the letter in her hand.

"It cannot be ..." she gasped before passing the letter to Uncle Vernon, who stared at the letter in confusion before reading it. His puce-coloured face quickly shrank and turned the same colour as Aunt Petunia's, so quickly that Harry was surprised he didn't faint dead away.

When Uncle Vernon was done with the letter, he gingerly set it down, as if it was a time bomb about to explode, and looked at his wife to ask, "What is to be done, Petunia?"

Aunt Petunia was quiet for a long time before whispering, "I'll have to see her. There's nothing for it ... Margaret is like your sister's dogs, won't let go when she has hold of something ... oh, that poor child!"

"The child?!" Vernon cried, seeming affronted. "She's one of ... of _his_ kind!" He pointed over his shoulder at Harry, whose interest was immediately peaked. "By George, Petunia! Your poor sister at the mercy of one of _them_? It's no wonder she went loopy!"

"Vernon, don't say that!" Aunt Petunia cried, her eyes filling with tears.

"Huh?" her son Dudley said, looking more confused than usual.

"Sister?" Harry asked, loudly enough to be sure he was heard. "My mum's dead!"

"Oh, don't be stupid, boy!" Aunt Petunia shrilled. "You think I don't know that?!" She sat back down to get herself under control, taking in deep, trembling breaths as she looked straight at Harry. Finally, she stood up, looking very determined.

"We are going to have tea with her," she said to the family, holding a hand up to keep Uncle Vernon from speaking. "We are leaving at half-past three. Make sure you're all presentable. That includes you, boy," she said to Harry.

"But who is she?" Harry asked, not willing to let this go. "Who are we going to see?!"

Aunt Petunia got a familiar look on her face, one that looked like she was sucking a lemon out of pure spite, before marching over and grabbing Harry's shoulder, dragging him into the back yard and shutting the door before Uncle Vernon and Dudley could follow.

"Pay attention, boy, for I won't say this again!" Aunt Petunia said, sounding like she was trying to shout as quietly as possible. "Lily was not my only sister. We had an elder sister named Daisy. She was ... very passionate about religion, even before Lily began ... changing. Lily's strangeness, however ... pushed poor Daisy over the edge. She spent almost all her time reading the Bible and praying and preaching to us, going on and on about how we were prideful and let the Devil into our home. She said more than once that we were all going to Hell for sheltering a ... a w-w-witch.

"The week ... the week before she moved out, she ... slipped something into Lily's tea." Aunt Petunia's voice went thin and frail, as if she were remembering something awful. "She admitted it to me later. Lily was fine at first, but then ... she kept getting headaches and upset stomachs and dizziness. It kept getting ... worse and worse until ... until she fell and cracked her head open on the coffee table!" Aunt Petunia spit out that last phrase in a rush, like she was confessing to doing something horrible.

"In the hullaballoo, we didn't even see Daisy leave," she continued, starting to shake like a leaf as Harry stared in horror at her. "Before we knew it, she had changed her name to Margaret and married some ... preacher-man named Ralph White before moving to America, of all places! Lily survived, obviously, but she had problems with sudden dizzy spells after that. She was only fifteen ... just like you ...

"Anyway, Margaret wrote me around Christmas that year and said that they were married, her and Ralph. Every Christmas, Margaret would send me a letter and let me know that she was alive and still married. Then, before Dudley was born, I got a letter almost a month late saying that Ralph had ... 'taken' her ... and left her because ... because 'the Devil had taken root' inside of her. The following Christmas, I got a baptismal picture along with the letter ... a picture of a little girl named Carrietta. Carrietta Nigella White ...

"I've watched Carrietta grow over the years from a ... b-beautiful little girl to a ... rather unfortunate-looking young woman. With each picture I receive of her, she seems to ... shrink in on herself. Margaret would tell me about her, little things ... she likes sewing ... she sings like a silver flute ... things like that.

"I fear for that girl, raised under Margaret's thumb. Over the years, Margaret's letters have gotten ... more erratic. I truly wonder if there is something ... wrong with Margaret, and for that, I want to get Carrietta away from Margaret. The only thing is ... Carrietta can ... move things, by wishing it. I remember when Lily would do that when we were children. I think ... she may be one of you, one that gained her ... powers late, Lily said it happened sometimes. If ... if we can get Carrietta out, then ... maybe you can ... hide her with ... w-with your kind, where Margaret cannot find her. It would be best, I think ... for Carrietta ..."

Harry stared at his aunt in absolute shock. He'd never heard her talk this much about her family, not even on the day he'd finally received his Hogwarts letter. That night, she'd gone into an almost hysterical rant about Harry's mother, and not a word about that episode had been said since. Now, Harry knew that there was one more family he could have gone to, and from what Aunt Petunia had told him, he was almost thankful that he had come to the Dursleys instead of to the Whites.

A part of him wanted to tell Aunt Petunia where she could shove her request, but the idea of a young witch out there, alone and frightened and unaware of where her powers came from, made him think of his friend Hermione Granger. She had come from a Muggle family, too, and her powers no doubt frightened her family at first, before someone had come and explained everything. If Hogwarts helped Hermione, Harry reasoned, then maybe it can help Carrietta as well.

"You want me to be ready by half-past three?" Harry asked.

Aunt Petunia simply nodded, looking like she was telling herself to not dare to hope.

Harry nodded back and simply said, "I'll be ready."

Aunt Petunia stared at him in surprise and ... was that delight?!

"Oh, thank you!" she gasped, completely forgetting herself for a moment and wrapping her arms around Harry for the first time since he learned to walk. Harry stood there in shock for a moment, but before he could hold her back, she let him go and hurried inside, throwing something about getting ready over her shoulder.

Harry stood there for the longest time, memorizing the way it felt for a family member to hold him close. It didn't feel like he felt a mother's hug would, but something about it felt ... right.

Harry realized that he had spent so long looking for family outside of the Dursleys that he hadn't realized what he did have when he was with them. Yes, they weren't kind to him. Yes, they never really loved him. Yes, they were sometimes downright cruel to him. But they were his family, and they were the only connection he really had to his mother. He didn't know if he could forgive Uncle Vernon or Dudley, but he did know right then that he could forgive Aunt Petunia, who always had made sure he'd had something to eat and something to wear and someplace to sleep, even if they weren't of the same quality as what she gave Dudley. He wouldn't excuse what she had done, but if she was capable of small kindnesses, maybe she could do more.


	2. Deliver Us From Evil

**I am such an awful human being! I told you guys that I'd be updating this on Sunday after nearly two months of nothing for this story, and I wait almost a whole week before actually following through! Ugh, I need to go scrub a hundred cauldrons in detention or something awful like that!**

 **Anyway, the second chapter of "Little Woman, Big Heart" is now up, and I REALLY hope y'all like it! I'll admit right now, I've never seen the 2013 Carrie movie all the way through - I've only seen clips on YouTube, so I'm not sure if I got Margaret White correct at all. Well, I guess that's what the AU tag is for ... anyway, I think she did well in this chapter.**

 **Big thank-you shout-out to my reviewers: He-Who-Shall-Live, Guest #1, Guest #2 (who asked why Petunia never helped Carrie if she was so worried - I answered that in this chapter), Guest #3, HarryPotter546, and Izi Wilson! You guys are incredible, and I love you to death!**

 **As always, read, enjoy, and review! Thanks!**

 **-Owlix**

 **Chapter Two:** **Deliver Us From Evil**

Half-past three couldn't come quickly enough, Harry decided. He did his chores as quickly as he could before hurrying upstairs to choose his clothes, a snitched roll rushing its way down his throat. After digging through his trunk, he found his nicest button-down shirt, a brown corduroy suit jacket, a grey-brown pair of slacks, some grey socks, and his only pair of nice shoes, which had been previously worn at the Yule Ball. He stuffed his clothes into a bag and grabbed some shoe polish and a brush before heading out to the nearest Laundromat on the High Street in town. He used the time it took to clean his clothes to make sure his shoes shined like new; he'd done the same with Uncle Vernon and Dudley's shoes before, so he knew he was doing it right.

He got back to Privet Drive at three with freshly laundered clothes and brilliantly shining shoes to find Aunt Petunia flitting about anxiously in preparation for tea with ... Aunt Margaret. Harry quickly ran upstairs to change into his clothes, despite the heat making it very uncomfortable to wear them. He then hurried to the bathroom to comb his hair before Dudley could come in and shove him out. The current length of his hair thankfully made it much easier than normal to tame, even though he had to practically soak his head in order to do so.

He went downstairs to be inspected by Aunt Petunia and was met with intense scrutiny and a final, hesitant nod. The two of them were left to wait for Uncle Vernon and Dudley to get downstairs, and the silence was anything but comfortable. In the back of Harry's mind, there was one question burning and aching to be asked. Finally, despite his aunt's feelings about questions, Harry finally just bit the bullet and asked.

"Why didn't you get her before?"

Aunt Petunia looked up at him in surprise before sneering slightly at him.

"She was in America, boy," she scoffed, "and there was no definitive proof of any ... mistreatment, so there was nothing I could do!"

They were quiet for a moment before they heard Uncle Vernon and Dudley's stomping steps come down the stairs.

"Well ..." Aunt Petunia said tremulously. "We're all here ... we're all ready ... shall we?"

She took Uncle Vernon's arm and all but dragged him to the car, list of directions held firmly in her hand. Dudley glanced at Harry and shrugged before following his parents, Harry behind him to lock the door as they left.

The car was hot and muggy, even with the windows down. Aunt Petunia used the thirty minute drive to coach the men on what to do. As soon as Harry had gotten Carrietta into the car, Uncle Vernon would pretend to get a call from work and say that they needed to reschedule afternoon tea for later. Once they were back at Privet Drive, Harry would contact "his kind" and ask for help getting Carrietta somewhere safe. Hopefully, Carrietta would have disappeared into the magical world within a few days. Harry didn't think that Mrs. Weasley, who he was planning on contacting, would turn away a young witch in need, especially if Harry mentioned the fact that Carrietta was his cousin. All in all, it seemed like a good plan.

Half an hour later, they were just outside the town of Worcester Park, parked in front of a perfectly respectable-looking grey stone bungalow. The four of them got out of the car and stood by it for a long while, staring in apprehension at the house. Finally, Aunt Petunia took Uncle Vernon's arm and determinedly marched him up to the house, forcing Dudley and Harry to go after her if they didn't want to be left outside all evening.

The front door, Harry was surprised to see, had a large wooden cross nailed to it, covering the peephole. If Harry focused, he could hear a female voice singing in the living room to his left. He didn't recognize the song, but judging by the cross, Harry assumed it to be a hymn of some sort. Aunt Petunia gave the door a firm rapping, interrupting the hymn and alerting the singer to their presence.

The door opened and revealed a dead-faced woman with fading red hair that fell to her waist and dark green almond-shaped eyes. It was like looking at someone with Harry's mother colouring and Aunt Petunia's features, and it was incredibly shocking for Harry to see.

"H-Hello, Margaret," Aunt Petunia greeted nervously.

"Petunia," Aunt Margaret said, smiling slightly after a moment. "God has blessed you, little sister."

"I ... yes, He has," Aunt Petunia said. "You remember my husband, Vernon, and my son, Dudley? I wrote about them."

"Yes, I remember," Aunt Margaret said before looking at Harry. "And who is this?"

"Oh, this is my nephew, Harry," Aunt Petunia said, conveniently leaving out that Harry was Margaret's nephew as well in hopes of staying on Margaret's good side.

"We came for afternoon tea," Aunt Petunia said. "Have you set it yet?"

"... Not yet," Aunt Margaret said, "but you're welcome to join us. Come in!"

"Us?" Aunt Petunia repeated as they went inside. "Is Carrietta here?"

"She's in the closet," Aunt Margaret said sternly, gesturing at the door across the hall from the front door. "She must pray for forgiveness for her sins."

"I ... I see," Aunt Petunia said before following Aunt Margaret into the kitchen and sending Harry a significant glance over her shoulder. Uncle Vernon and Dudley wisely kept their mouths closed as they went into the living room.

Harry glanced into the room and was immediately met with a gruesome painting of Jesus Christ on the cross, painted blood dripping from His many wounds as a look of pure agony marred His face. Harry felt an ice-cold shiver run down his spine. When Harry was young, the Dursleys went to St. Mary's Church in the town of Staines-Upon-Thames for Easter, Good Friday, and Christmas, and Harry remembered the building being full of light and colour coming in from the windows. The darker side of Christianity wasn't something that was discussed with the children that were Harry and Dudley's age, mainly because the minister didn't want to frighten them. They were told of the love of God and angels and Heaven instead, which suited Harry's young mind much better than what Carrietta was most likely taught as a child. He hadn't gone back since he'd started at Hogwarts, but he remembered it fondly.

Shoving away that shiver, Harry moved to the door of what was most likely a water closet and opened it to find ... a shivering girl curled up on top of the toilet, slurring her words slightly as she whispered to herself. Harry gently reached out and laid a hand on top of her straggly blonde hair, making her look up at him. He held a finger to his lips before she could say anything and gestured for her to follow him. Her green eyes – his mother's eyes – looked confused and hazy, but she nodded and slowly got up to follow him.

"Aunt Petunia!" Harry called out towards the kitchen. "You left your purse in the car! D'you want me to go and get it?"

"Oh, yes please, Harry!" Aunt Petunia called back in what Harry thought of as her "social voice".

Holding his finger to his lips again, he opened up the door and carefully guided Carrietta outside.

"I'm your cousin, Harry," he whispered to Carrietta as he guided her down the walkway. "We're here to get you out. We're going to hide you in the car and –"

"He's gonna take you in his car," Carrietta said suddenly, her entire body trembling with what seemed to be pure fear, "out to the wilderness ... out where it's cold and – and the roadhouses are and the w-whiskey – no! No, no, no-no-no-"

"No, there's no whiskey!" Harry said quietly, putting his hand over Carrietta's mouth as her voice had been steadily rising as she began to panic. "No roadhouses in the wilderness! Just to your Aunt Petunia's house! It's nice and warm and safe, and there's no prayer closets! It's a nice house!"

But Carrietta seemed to be trapped in a state of terror. She kept trembling almost violently under Harry's hand and started shaking her head as she stared at him with his mother's eyes. Taking the initiative, Harry spun Carrietta around and wrapped both arms around her, one keeping her close while the other over her mouth to keep her from screaming. She began to buck hard against Harry, leaning back and kicking her legs and stomping her feet and screaming under Harry's hand in a valiant attempt to get free. When they got to the car, Harry leaned against it, trying to figure out how to get Carrietta into the car without releasing her.

All of a sudden, Carrietta froze.

She stopped kicking and stomping.

Her screams turned into deep, shuddering gasps, like she'd just been doused in icy water and couldn't catch another breath.

When Harry let go with his right hand to check on her, he suddenly noticed the light was remarkably different. The sun was hours away from setting, and yet it was steadily – and _quickly –_ getting darker.

And colder.

It had been 35 degrees Celsius today – he'd seen the thermometer in Aunt Petunia's kitchen window. Now it was cold enough that he could see his and Carrietta's breaths as they exhaled.

"W-What's happening?" Carrietta's voice asked, her voice barely audible.

"Stay quiet," Harry whispered in her ear as he reached behind him to retrieve his wand out of his back pocket, "and don't move."

Carrietta didn't respond, but her gasping breaths were starting to become quiet wheezes. Harry understood, remembering his first experience with this sort of thing. The anxiety and fear of not knowing what was coming but knowing it was something dangerous wasn't something one would forget in a hurry.

But they couldn't be here ... Not in Worcester Park ... He strained his ears, knowing he would hear them before he saw them ...

Then he heard it, somewhere up the street to his right. A long, hoarse, rattling breath ... and then another ... and another.

"Carrietta!" Harry gasped, catching her attention. "When I tell you, run as fast as you can towards the house. Don't stop, don't look back, don't let anyone come out until I come in. Understand?"

"Y-Yes!" Carrie squeaked, now more terrified than she'd been about leaving with Harry. She began to mutter what Harry vaguely recognized as the Lord's Prayer under her breath as she waited for Harry's cue. As soon as she said "Amen", she got it.

Leaving Carrie to run inside, Harry spun to his right and cast a Lumos charm on the street before him. His stomach turned over when he saw the towering, hooded figure gliding towards him, its rotting hands stretching towards him as it came closer.

Suddenly, a horrible, high-pitched, warbling shriek came from the house. Harry's gut instinct told him it was Carrie.

 **Carrie's POV:**

The strange boy was taking me away, just like Momma said he would!

He was going to take me in his car ... and drive off into the wilderness ... where it was cold ... and where the roadhouses were ... and the whiskey ...

No!

No! No!

No-no-no!

But he said there was no whiskey. No roadhouses in the wilderness.

He said we'd be going to Aunt Petunia's house.

But I don't know an Aunt Petunia!

I don't have an Aunt Petunia!

He's lying, he's lying, he's lying …

No!

No, he's taking me!

No, I won't go!

I kicked my legs, I stomped on his feet, I tried to scream through the hand on my mouth! I heard him struggle to keep a hold on me! I heard him lean against the car! Just a bit more, just a bit …

It's getting dark …

The sun won't set for hours! Why's it getting dark?!

It's getting so cold!

Momma said it was 95 degrees today. How'd it get this cold?!

The cold air hurt, worse than the coldest winters in Chamberlain. I couldn't breathe … I almost could hear something … on the edges of my senses … was that Momma's voice?

"W-What's happening?" I asked, praying the boy would answer.

"Stay quiet," he whispered in my ear, reaching behind him for something, "and don't move."

He was listening for something, I think.

I could hear more now … yeah, it was Momma's voice … but the voice … it didn't sound right …

 _You're a woman now … "And Eve was weak," say it … He can smell the sin on you, and He will PUNISH YOU …_

No … no-no-no … not again …

 _Go to your closet and pray … YOU PRAY, LITTLE GIRL … PRAY FOR FORGIVENESS …_

Momma, no … please, God, help me …

"Carrietta!" the boy gasped in my ear. "When I tell you, run as fast as you can towards the house. Don't stop, don't look back, don't let anyone come out until I come in. Understand?"

"Y-Yes!" I squeaked, knowing that God had answered my prayers and that I'd need His strength to get back in the house. I recited the Lord's Prayer as quickly and as fervently as I could, focusing on the part asking Him to deliver me from Evil. For I knew that Evil was coming to us. I couldn't see it yet, but I could feel it coming in the cold and the dark.

At the boy's cue, I ran as fast as I could for the house, screaming for Momma. I hurried inside, rushing right into Momma's arms and trying to tell her what had happened. My mouth, for some reason, wouldn't work; I was probably crying too hard.

Then the cold came again, and the lights began to flicker.

"Carrie …" Momma said dangerously. "What are you doing?"

"N-Nothing, nothing, Momma, nothing!" I gasped, backing toward the other woman in the kitchen.

"Lying is a sin, Carrie," Momma hissed. "Lying is a _sin_! 'A false witness shall not go unpunished, and she that speaks lies shall _perish_!'"

The last word was an awful snap of a word as she grabbed my arms tight enough to bruise.

Then I saw it and screamed.

A shadow as tall as a tree, should-be-dead skinny, and covered in a ratty black hooded cloak that seemed as much a part of it as its awful, glistening, rotting hands. I could hear a rattling breath coming from behind the hood. The sound should have been getting louder as it got closer but it started fading out, like a radio with a bad signal. Momma's voice kept getting louder but she wasn't saying what she was before, and I started hearing Chris Hargensen and Sue Snell and all their friends and all the horrible stuff they said to me.

 **CRAZY CARRIE**... _You're gonna go to your closet, and you're gonna pray …_

I felt my body being dragged away, but the voices followed.

 **GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU FREAK** _…_ _Witch … the Devil's got her now …_

I heard a door opening … but I couldn't see it.

 **WIPE THAT SMILE OFF YOUR FACE** _…_ _He gave me a cancer, I thought you were a cancer …_

The cold went deeper, the dark got deeper, the voices got louder …

 **PLUG IT UP** ** _… PLUG IT UP …_** ** _PLUG IT UP_** ** _…_**

Then the light came.


	3. The Aftermath

**SURPRISE! I'm posting a second update for this story! Yay!**

 **Just in case anyone's wondering, the Bible verses I'm finding are from the King James Version, just slightly translated into modern speech.**

 **I'm pleased to say that Margaret gets her comeuppance this chapter, even if it's a bit extreme. Hope I handled Carrie's characterization correctly - I really want her to be realistic!**

 **As always, read, enjoy, and review!**

 **-Owlix**

 **Chapter Three:** **The Aftermath**

 **Carrie's POV:**

The light wasn't a painful, yellow-ish light like the one in the bathroom that showed every flaw on my face.

It was a blue light that was still almost painfully bright, but the blue tone soothed the brightness so that I couldn't help but be calmed by it. The darkness slowly cleared from my gaze, revealing the open door of the new prayer closet. There was a stag standing in the doorway, made of the blue light that I'd seen chasing the darkness away.

A scripture from the Song of Solomon came to mind at the beautiful sight.

'My beloved is like a young stag. Look, there he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice.'

"That's a lovely verse, Carrietta," a shivering female voice said from behind me, making me realize I'd said it out loud. I turned and saw the other woman who had been with Momma. She had dark hair like Grandma and Grandpa's blue eyes, but she looked tired and cold and sad.

"Th-Thank you," I stammered, feeling as cold and tired as the woman looked. "S-Song of Solomon, ch-chapter two, verse 9."

I looked back at the stag and saw the boy standing behind it, holding a stick in his hand that had a line of the blue light coming from it like a leash attaching to the stag. He was sweating and pale, like he was sick, and I immediately worried for him. Even though he'd tried to take me away, he still protected me from the Evil.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Y-Yeah … Momma … MOMMA!"

I stumbled many times as I forced myself to my feet and rushed into the kitchen. I found Momma on the floor, her arms spread out like Jesus on the Cross and her empty eyes staring up at the ceiling.

"The dementor had too much of a hold on her," the boy said. "There's nothing I could do … I-I'm sorry, I –"

"What's this codswallop?!" a large, burly man asked from the living room.

"Dementor?!" the woman gasped in horror.

"One of two," the boy said. "I got rid of one outside, but … I heard Carrietta scream and …"

"Momma?" I called, kneeling next to her head and stroking her face to try and get her to notice me. "Can you hear me, Momma? It's OK, Momma. The Evil's gone now! You can wake up now! Momma? Momma?! Momma, please answer me!"

"She can't hear you, Carrietta," the boy said sadly. "The dementor took her soul. She's gone."

"D-Dead?" I gasped.

"… Worse," the boy said dejectedly. "Her body's still alive, but … her soul's gone. The dementor took it."

I turned and stared at him in horror. Momma's soul was gone? She couldn't go to Heaven or Hell?

"B-but … the Bible says … only heaven or hell …" I sobbed.

"The Bible didn't say anything about dementors," the boy said.

"What are dementoids?" the man asked angrily.

"De-men-tors!" the boy replied, just as angrily.

"I couldn't see it," the woman said, as if realizing something. "It was right in front of me, and I couldn't see it. Maybe the writers of the Bible couldn't see them."

A small part of my mind thought that made sense, but the rest of me was still reeling from the idea that Momma was gone and that I wouldn't even see her in Heaven. I placed my head on Momma's chest, heard her heart still beating, and began to cry awful, ugly sobs that hurt to be heard and hurt to be made. After a while, I felt a warm hand on my back, gently stroking up and down my spine. Whoever it was didn't make me move away from Momma; they just let me kneel there and cry until there were no more tears and then let me stay until I was ready to move away.

When I sat up, I saw the boy kneeling next to me, a sad look in his eye that told me that he'd lost someone too and knew how much it hurt.

"My name's Harry Potter," he said quietly. "I'm your cousin. Our mums were sisters. This is our Aunt Petunia and our Uncle Vernon and … where's Dudley?"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia immediately stood up and hurried into the living room. Harry helped me stand up and guided me after them, where we found them helping a muscular blond man to a sitting position. He was groaning and holding his head, looking and sounding like he was about to throw up. I quickly went into the bathroom and grabbed a trashcan for him to hold. Momma hated dirty floors …

"Carrietta, do you have any chocolate?" Harry asked.

"It's Carrie," I said dully. "Yeah …"

I hurried over to my room and found a container of chocolate that I'd brought over from Maine as a small act of rebellion. I grabbed it and took it over to the blond man, Dudley, I think. He just stared at the container like he didn't know quite what to do with it.

"Here," Harry said, carefully taking the chocolate from my hands and opening it. He took pieces out and gave them to everyone, telling us to eat it and we'd feel better. I hadn't had a piece of chocolate since before we moved, so I made sure to go slow. To my surprise, each bite literally brought warmth into my body, going from my fingers and toes to my arms and legs to my heart and stomach. It didn't make my heartache go away and I was still tired, but I didn't feel quite as cold anymore.

I looked up at Harry, who was trying to get Dudley to eat the chocolate. It was quite funny to watch, until Aunt Petunia pinched Dudley's cheek and made him open his mouth, giving Harry a chance to stuff the chocolate in Dudley's mouth. I let myself smile a little and let out the tiniest chuckle, but judging by the look on Harry's face, it was enough.

We looked around at each other and saw that everyone was alive and relatively well … except for Momma.

"What are we gonna do?" I asked Harry. "A-about Momma …"

Before Harry could answer, an owl came in through the open kitchen door, carrying a letter in its beak. Harry dived to get the letter the moment the owl released it and ripped it open, looking like he was the one about to throw up this time. His eyes scanned the letter quickly, and then his face faded to an awful shade of gray. He slumped down next to me, looking horrified and confused and numb all at the same time.

"What is it?" I asked, placing a hand on his arm.

"I've been expelled …"

" _What?!_ " Uncle Vernon said.

"… for doing magic outside of school," Harry continued in a numb voice. "The Ministry's coming here … to destroy my wand … I've been expelled … I'm never going back …"

To my surprise, he stood up and took out his wand before turning to leave the house.

"W-Wait, you can't go!" I called, standing up to grab his hand. "What if … what if they come back!"

Before Harry could respond, he was interrupted by yet another owl, which had a paper wrapped around his leg this time. He took it and unrolled the paper, his hands shaking. I looked over his shoulder and saw the words:

 _'_ _Harry –_

 _'_ _Dumbledore's just arrived at the Ministry, and he's trying to sort it all out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND._

 _'_ _Arthur Weasley'_

"Who's Dumbledore?" I asked.

"Headmaster at my school," Harry said, looking confused this time. I guessed "headmaster" was something like "principal" in English schools.

"Your magic school?" I asked, only to get a nod in response.

Harry seemed to be in shock, and the caring instincts I felt whenever Momma couldn't function kicked in. I guided Harry to the couch and looked over at Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, who were still tending to Dudley.

"So there _are_ witches, like Momma said," I stated.

Uncle Vernon turned a weird purple-red color and Dudley didn't respond, but Aunt Petunia took a deep breath and nodded her head.

"Our sister, Harry's mother, Lily, was a … w-witch," she said. "The power … must have passed through our side of the family to you."

"Did Grandma have it?" I asked. "The books said … it was inherited."

Aunt Petunia shook her head.

"No," she said. "Mummy was actually worried about Lily's … abilities. Always told Lily to be careful with them. Before Hogwarts, she even told Lily that she wasn't allowed to use it. Daddy was always more indulgent of Lily, liked her spunk, her cheek. It was someone very far back in our family. We don't know who."

Things were quiet for a long time. Harry was almost hyperventilating, but before he could, I lifted a shaking hand and began to stroke his messy black hair. Momma sometimes calmed down when I did this, if I did it early enough. The hyperventilating changed, after a bit of that, into the trembling breaths that signaled the approach of tears.

Before I could comfort him more, another owl came with an envelope in its beak. I grabbed it before Harry could and opened it, reading it out loud.

"Dear Mr. Potter,

"Further to our letter of a-approximately twenty-two minutes ago … the M-Ministry of Magic has r-revised its decision … to destroy your wand f-forthwith. You … You may retain your wand … until your d-disciplinary hearing on 12th August, at which time … an official decision will be taken.

"Following discussions … with the Headmaster of … H-Hogwarts School of W-Witchcraft and Wizardry … the Ministry has agreed … that the question of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. Y-You should therefore consider yourself … s-suspended from school … pending further inquiries."

The silence was almost explosive at that moment.

"He's not expelled," Aunt Petunia whispered in relief.

I nodded with a small grin.

"He's not expelled!" I confirmed.

"I'm not expelled …" Harry repeated, his voice full of more life than before. "Still have to get a hearing, though."

"W-Well, you just tell them what happened," I said, tucking hair behind my ear. "I can come with you as a witness. They'll believe us and we can go home."

Harry shook his head.

"Government doesn't like me," he said dully. "I keep telling them Lord Voldemort's back … they don't believe me …"

"Who?" I asked.

"Lord – hang on," Uncle Vernon said, his faced screwed up in recognition. "I've heard that name … that was the one who …"

"Murdered my parents, yeah," Harry said, ignoring my gasp of horror.

"But he's gone," Uncle Vernon said impatiently. "That giant bloke said so. He's gone."

"He's back," Harry stated, putting his hands on either side of his head as if keeping his brain from exploding. I hurried to the kitchen to grab some aspirin from the pantry and a cup of water from the sink. He gave me a strange look when I offered him the medicine, like he'd never seen those before, but he obviously knew what to do because he took three pills and a large swig of the water. I sat back down next to him and began to rub his back, like he had with me before.

"Back?"

We both looked up at Aunt Petunia, whose big blue eyes were wide and frightened. She was the only one in the room who seemed to understand what Harry meant when he said this Lord … Volde-something was back. I didn't understand it at all, but I knew it meant something to Harry so I accepted it.

"Yes," Harry said, looking straight at Aunt Petunia. "He came back a month ago. I saw him."

Aunt Petunia reached over and grabbed Dudley's shoulders.

"D-Did he hurt you?" I asked worriedly.

Harry looked at me in surprise before reaching down to roll up his right sleeve. A long, thin cut just below his elbow stretched down his forearm. I just barely stopped myself from touching it; it didn't seem right to do that without Harry's permission.

"It's OK," Harry said quietly.

The tips of my shaking fingers barely touched his scar as I traced it from one end to the other.

"Did it hurt your nerves?" I asked, knowing from Health class that deep cuts on the arm could do that.

Harry shook his head and flexed his hand to show me that everything was fine.

"He's back, you say?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"Yes."

"The one who murdered your parents."

"Yes."

"Is he … sending dementoids after you?"

"… Looks like it," Harry said, looking like he was thinking it through as he spoke.

"I see," Uncle Vernon said, his face an ugly purple as he hitched up his pants. "Well, that settles it – you can get out of my house, boy!"

"What?!" I asked, shocked that Uncle Vernon would say something like that.

"You heard me – OUT!" he bellowed, and even Dudley jumped. "OUT! OUT! I should've done it years ago! Owls treating the place like a rest home, puddings exploding, half the lounge destroyed, Dudley's tail, Marge bobbing around on the ceiling, and that flying Ford Anglia – OUT! OUT! You've had it – you're history! You're not staying with us if some loony's after you, you're not endangering my wife and son, you're not bringing trouble down on us, if you're going the same way as your useless parents, I've had it! OUT!"

We all flinched as yet another owl zoomed out of the fireplace and dropped a scarlet envelope in Aunt Petunia's lap to everyone's surprise.

"That's a Howler …" Harry said, as if confused as to why Aunt Petunia had one.

"A what?" I asked.

"It yells the letter at you," Harry said, eyeing the letter like it was a ticking time bomb. "Whether you open it or not, the letter screams at you."

"It's addressed to me," Aunt Petunia said in a shaking voice. "Mrs. Petunia Dursley, The Living Room, Number Six, Grafton Road – EEP!"

The envelope had begun to smoke.

"Open it!" Harry urged. "Get it over with! It'll happen anyway –"

Before Harry could finish, the envelope burst into flames, causing Aunt Petunia to scream and drop it. An awful voice roared from the flames, evoking images of the Devil screaming at Aunt Petunia from Hell itself.

Only four words were said.

"REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA!"


	4. AUTHOR'S NOTE

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I'm so sorry I haven't been updating recently! Life's going through a couple changes right now, and I'm waiting for everything to settle.

1) I Believe You - A Harry Potter Story: "What if Regulus Black had a daughter who spent her life in New York City and then transferred to Hogwarts at the beginning of Harry's 5th year? Enter Reggie Dolan, a proud New Yorker with loads of brass and even more sass! Follow her on her adventures through Hogwarts as she gains friends, enemies, and memories."

2) Deliverance - A Thor/Prince of Egypt Crossover: "We all know the Asgardian version of events, but how did the Jotuns see it and how did it all begin? Follow me through the ages as I unveil the True Story of Ragnarok, as told by Loki. Thor AU, follows plot of "Thor" up to the failed coronation and then follows "The Prince of Egypt" AND the Bible, especially during the plagues and onward. Loki/Jane, Thor/Sif"

3) Little Woman, Big Heart - A Harry Potter/Carrie Crossover: "Margaret White told Carrie on Prom Night that they could move away, but where was she thinking of moving to? And where exactly did Carrie's abilities come from? Follow Carrie White as she is forcibly moved to Surrey and follows her cousin, Harry Potter on his adventures through Hogwarts. Major AU - 2013 Carrie, Black Prom never happened, OOC Petunia, religion featured in story"

4) Do You Believe In Magic? - A Harry Potter/Twilight Crossover: "Iris 'Rissie' Potter was born the twin sister of Harry Potter; however, she was also born a Squib. After Bill and Fleur's wedding, she was taken to Lord Voldemort to be kept hostage. When all hope seemed lost, a mysterious figure transported her to Forks, WA. Who will she meet there, and how will this affect the Wizarding World as we know it?"

You'll find the poll on my home page, above the bio! Please let me know! You have until Leap Day to decide - then the poll will come down and a new chapter will be published on my most popular story by March 7th!


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